Page 45 of Baby for the Bratva King

“Saskia…” he whispers, his voice breaking moments before we collide in heat.

Everything breaks the second our tongues brush. I sink into his embrace, letting him dominate my mouth and control me in every possible way.

“Fuck, Saskia,” he groans, bringing me flush into his chest.

He skims my lower back, lifting me into the air, walking down the corridor.

“We’re in a bedroom.”

“Yes, but I want you in mine.”

A hot shiver travels down my spine, electricity pooling around my tailbone.

We make it into his room, and my fantasies come to life as he lays me down on his bed. Clothes come off, our breaths turning heavy.

I close my eyes, and the stars are already there waiting for me.

“Coral and yellow,” says Felix, running his finger along the hem of my sports bra.

“Well, if I knew you were going to be spying on me, I would have changed clothes, at least made the colors match.”

“No, sweetheart,” says Felix, his tone low. “Never change. Never fix yourself for anyone or change your colors. Come exactly as you are.”

What happened to voyla, the world bending around your control? Am I the exception? The only person who gets to remain the same?

Doesn’t he want me to swoon?

No, he doesn’t. He likes it when I leave. It triggers something inside of him, something cold and hard, perhaps even a little forbidden. But he’s taking a bite of the fruit, curious to see how it might taste to get close.

This might end in freedom, or it might end with our hands back in chains. But I’m not interested in the ending, and neither is he. A kiss speaks the words we cannot say, and warmth spreads through my body.

It quickly turns to desire as he strips me naked.

Felix grabs my ankles, pulling me to the foot of the bed. He opens my legs and kneels before me, holding my thighs.

“A honeysuckle needs a little darkness to balance out the sweetness,” he says, flicking his tongue over my clit, already sending me to cloud nine.

I gasp, choking on my own breath as immense pleasure consumes me. I grip the bedsheets, the soft fabric slipping through my fingertips.

The rich burgundy color sends me back to the gala, being sized up by the rich. My body has always been the most important thing about me.

“Red looks so elegant on you.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

I close my eyes and feel it all, the oppression, the cold ache in my bones as I realized I had several more hours to go of the torture; ending the night feeling just as cold as hoped I did enough for my father.

Tell me you’re proud of me. Look at me the way you look at the cameras, make me feel seen. Loved. Please.

Felix’s kiss washes away the hurt. Something incredibly passionate stirs in my stomach.

I sigh into Felix’s touch as his tongue swipes over me. He sinks two fingers into my entrance, and I concentrate on the pleasure, arching my back, adjusting myself around him as he curls the finger.

“Oh my god,” I moan, a tear slipping from my eye as pleasure rolls through me in powerful waves, and I’m floating, letting my body decide the journey.

Felix appears between my thighs, closing them for a second.

“Here,” he grunts, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Taste yourself on my mouth.”